


The Anti-Sugar Project

by TeaTones



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: M/M, Slow Build, Time Jump, ZADF, ZaDr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20828108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaTones/pseuds/TeaTones
Summary: Zim discovers the the tallest have been keeping a key nutrient out of the fleets diet, one responsible for growth. The height cast system is rigged, and Zim wants revenge. Theres been a change in plans Earth. Irk better watch out, cause theres a big storm coming!And they'll regret cutting him off yet!





	1. The Secret's in the Sugar

The house was in a large clearing. Just past a thick wooded area. Past large swaths of winding backroads. Far, far away from all human civilization.

You liked it out here, it was quiet. The air smelled like sweet aromatic wildflowers and crisp air, like earth and dying leaves. A small brook could be heard, babbling somewhere off in the woods. From atop your house, the night sky seemed endless. No clouds, no light pollution, just an endless sea of black speckled with the soft light of suns in far off galaxies. The moon was waning, peeking just over the continuing woods a few acers away from your home. 

Between the woods and your home stood a pretty sizable corn field. That was a project that was close to its end for the year, as fall quickly approached. In your time here on earth, you’d found corn to be most useful. Next year, more corn will grow and more progress will be made.

Around the field of corn stood an ultimate foe. The accursed _Japanese knotweed!_ You’d tried everything! Lasers, elixirs, _lasers_, pesticides-_LASERS- _nothing would stop that invasive species and its unrelenting force! Every year it just came back, and as if trying to mock you, in larger quantities than before!

On another note, your location also provided a good source of chicory flowers which grew naturally on the boarder of the surrounding woods. Another fantastic source, and yet another project that will be halted for the year once the first frost hits.

Your eyes pick up on movement in the corn, a small figure running through the foliage and towards your home. Antenna quirked up to pick up on a high pitched ‘_skriiiiiiiiii’_ and the figure broke free and into the maintained back yard and past the scarecrow jokingly modeled off a certain human. He did not find it so amusing.

Ah yes, it was only Gir. Atop his head he carried a basket meant to collect corn samples. It had something in it you couldn’t pinpoint quite yet, but suspected was some lost item left behind by humans.

These days, you just let him do what he wanted. So long as it wasn’t hurting anyone.

“Hey Gir, what do you have?”

“A knife!”

You immediately sprung up and leapt from the roof, pac legs springing to life as you ascended, “Nooo!” You intercepted him quickly before he made it to the back porch, which lead to the sunroom he kept his things in. You scoop the basket off his head quickly and held it out of reach to inspect it yourself.

“No give it back!” he wined, but after years of living with him, you’d learned to tune it out.

Carefully you picked the small knife up and passed the basket back to a screaming Gir. Turning it over in your hands, you can see a small hinge and cavity that allow the knife to fold back for safe transportation. It’s well rusted over, giving a good deal of resistance as you test the foldability. Part of the blade itself was starting to fall apart, rust and decomposition wearing the metal into splintering pieces.

You settle back on your feet and start making your way to the porch steps, “Now Gir, what have we talked about?” you stop at the top step and look back to him, who has now quieted down but was still fussing, “Gir?”

“Letting me keep the thing?” He tried.

“No Gir,” you shook your head as you pushed open the screen door, “Knifes and other sharps are not to be touched. We don’t need another teddy bear incident.” You shivered as you thought about it.

The sunroom could be featured on an episode of hoarders, you think. There’s so many useless things here, mostly trash if you were concerned, but this was Gir’s room. You’d come to an agreement that he could keep his things here, so the rest of the house can be free of it. Shelfs brimming with different looking rocks and golf balls Gir couldn’t differentiate between. A few baseball bats, some wooden and swelling from water damage, and others bent aluminum and heavily warn down.

Upturned bike helmets next rusted hubcaps. Old plastic cups and chipped bowls had sprouting weeds Gir deemed important to his collection. Even a sample of the cursed knotweed sprouted tall and proud from a large robotic boot, of which he swears he didn’t steal it from your lab.

Disturbingly warped barbies and baby dolls missing eyes or half shaved heads. Old smelly boots and shoes cluttered the floor, and a pile of socks and shirts and other such things he’d found after terrifying a group of campers away who snuck onto their property.

That was a fun day.

Gir huffed and buried himself in his cloths pile. He’ll get over it in 10 minutes. You’re unconcerned as you push through the mess and into the laundry room that connected this to the rest of the home. Next was the dining room which was connected to the kitchenette and small living room. Hard wood floors and large open windows, a crooked celling fan that never turned off, ticking relentlessly. A small vanilla scented candle, curtesy of Gaz, was burning on the electric stovetop in the kitchen. A small peninsula of counterspace divided the kitchen and living room area.

You didn’t need lights on to see at night, so making your way through the small home in the dark came as naturally as breathing to you. You passed by the back of the couch and readjusted a blanket that had been thrown haphazardly to the ground back to its place, probably by Gir. Potted plants with at varying stages of life and death littered the dining table up against a wall with a gardener’s window. More experiments that were being monitored.

There was metal door to the left of your fridge with a hand recognition plate the lead to your laboratory.

The lab was taller than it was wide, more circular, with spiral steps leading to the above level completely lined with shelves and research notes and books, and spiral steps leading to the below level that was purely storage. The walls were mostly covered by monitors displaying various graphs and diagrams from your latest experiments. Were there weren’t screens, there were locked cabinets and wires and piping. Along the walls were varying work stations 1-3, with cleaned beakers, holders and other tech. Emptied bags of potting soil littered the floor by the waste disposal unit, which was the only sign of disarray.

Everything Gir’s room was, this wasn’t. Everything was orderly, sterol, had _purpose_!

Aside from those bags.

Those bags.

Always those bags.

The plants that were here were all samples used purely for science. A basket of corn picked earlier that day sat on one of the desks to be examined shortly. You remember asking Gir to gather chicory while he was out today, but that didn’t happen, so you’ll have to hold off that specimen for another day. There were many other things to work on here anyways.

A large round white planter was in the center with a walkway cutting it in half. It stood as tall as your waist with a UVB light hanging overhead to replicate natural light. Aside from the screens, that was the only source of light in the room at present. 

As you passed through, you took in the progress of the sugar beets in varying stages of development. In time they will be ready, but not yet. You ascended the steps to the lower level and located the lock box you used to keep Gir’s contraband.

Punching a quick 6-digit code, the top white panel slid open. Different types of knifes, mainly hunting, were folded and tossed into a cardboard box and pushed to the back of the cabinet. Today’s knife joined them before you folded the box back up. The cabinet also contained a few axes, one machete and a few bands of chainsaw blades, some exacto blades and broken scissors. On a small shelf above the knife box was a smaller box, “The teddy bear incident.” You repeated before locking the cabinet back up.

As you made your way back up the steps, you heard the front door open.

“Hey Zim! I have that stuff!” You heard Dib call from the front entrance.

“Dib Stink!” You shout as you make it to the main lab level, “It took you long enough! Bring it here before I keel over and die of old age!”

“Yeah like that’ll ever happen.” You couldn’t see him, but could imagine his exact facial reactions; the eye roll, subtle shake of the head, the way his lips set into a flat line when trying to not smile.

Classic Dib Stink.

Mini Moose floated through the doorway to the lab with a tote bag full of supplies hanging off one antler, causing their body to lull to one side as it went. It floated to the desk with corn and plopped it down before returning to floating ominously over your shoulder like some haunted, all seeing Spector.

Following shortly behind was the other boy with both arms weighed down by even more bags.

“Where do you want these?” Dib asked before setting them on the floor by the planter anyways, then turned the lights on, “These are coming along pretty well?” He looked optimistically at the sugar beets.

You walked over and looked through the supplies in the bags, “Yeah, they’ve been coming along better than the last batch,” You looked at the disposal unit next to the workbench by the door-_ the potting soil bags- _which was filled with what looked like shriveled black prunes, “It’s still too soon to make the call yet.”

You pulled out the box of matured sugarcane stalks. Very promising specimens.

A project for another day. You put them on lab table 1.

Next were bags of _potting soil_ to replace the contaminated soil of past experiments. New heat bulbs to replace the dying ones on the heating rack on lab table 2, used to dry out the corn kernels to make corn starch. New UVB bulbs, and more clay pots. Tiny clay pots, so cute, so little.

Lastly was the new sanitizing solution to replace the last one.

“How goes the sugar ant progress?” Dib asked while looking at the documents opened on the screens.

You look over to lab table 3 now littered with exploded ants in petri-dishes. A small box of baking soda is now quarantined in a sealed container next to them, “Inconclusive.”

Dib’s eyes leave the screen to take a look, “Oh wow.” he looked over the notes you’d taken and wasn’t saying anything else, but you could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“Oh shut to hell your fat head, Dib Stink!” You snatched the notes away from him and closed the notebook, “How was I supposed to know the baking soda would make them explode?!” You took great pride in the fact that after all these years, you finally caught up to him in height, so you no longer looked like a child throwing a tantrum.

Now you looked like an adult throwing a tantrum.

Dib was trying and failing now to bite back laughter, “Zim I promise I’m not laughing at you-“you thwapped him in the back on the head before making quick hast in clearing off lab table 3, “I just- was the backing soda intentional?”

“Of course not! I was using it in a neutralizing agent in my latest serum and I put the box on the wrong table!!” You threw your arms up in defense.

You jumped to the second floor and over the guardrail with your pac legs to file the book away.

“At the very least, the serum hasn’t killed the sugar beets this time,” You peered over the railing, “Yet.”

“So you really think you can make this, what was it-“

“Anti-Sugar.”

“Yes, anti-sugar. You really think you can make this, and then what?”

“I invade the ranks of the Tallest and inject them with it.” You jumped over the railing and landed in front of him in dramatic fashion, practically beaming.

“And this will make them smaller?”

“They will be the Smallest.” You snicker, “Not so All Mighty anymore!”

“And you’re sure you’ve grown because of sugar intake?”

You level Dib with an unimpressed look, mini moose looms over your head with an air of total condescension, “Dib Stink, I’ve been alive for at least 80 of your earth years, and a mighty Irken like myself ‘_usually’,_” You use air quotes for dramatic effect, “reach max height at the end of our first _human _year.”

You take mini moose, press a few buttons, which has them opening up to form a large hovering screen with a diagram of Irken height to year ratio, “As you can see, the level off starts here,” You used a pac leg to point out the apparent plateau marked on the line graph, “And as you can see here,” It pointed to the very middle of the data, where your height has been calculated to have drastically spiked, “I suddenly had a tremendous growth spurt!” you tap the outer rim of the mini moose screen and it snaps back into the moose we all know and love.

“If my research is correct- and it is because it is conducted by the incredible and almighty Zim! Then it shows that the Tallest have been depriving all of Irk of key nutrients needed to grow to our full potential!” You were now shaking Dib by the shoulders, “They’ve been keeping us all obediently complacent with their height ranking superiority system, and keeping us just short enough- _efficient_ enough to do their bidding!”

You let him go and watch him readjust his glasses and unrumple his shirt, then focus on the sugar beets growing in the center of the room, a slight black color slowly growing on them from the ground up, “With this _anti-sugar_ I can expose them for the lazy, manipulative rulers that they are!” you were rubbing your hands together in excitement and spun back around, “It was their mistake for sending me, a great and powerful Irken, to a random planet to begin with. From what I’ve gathered, they’ve made it a large point to avoid sending us on planets with basic sugar compounds on it.

“And an even larger point to make sure we don’t eat anything native to the planet. Transporting Irken rations to each hide out, and warning us that everything can be a poison to us so stick with what we know- Which actually does make sense, we’ve lost so many good invaders that way- But they’ve been stunting all our growth to stay in a position of power-“

“Ah Zim-“

“And they’ll regret the day that they didn’t take the all mighty and powerful ZIM for the great invader that he is!”

“Zim wait-“

“I’ll become the greatest invader of all time! I’ll give the knotweed a preverbal run for its money! The empire won’t know what hit them!” you threw your fist in the air triumphantly.

“You done now?” Dib asked, finally getting your attention back.

“Oh, ah yes. Now what was it Dib Stink?” 

“The beets are fried.”

You tuned around again, and the beets were, indeed, fried. Now shriveled up in the soil and dried out like the last batch.

“Crud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After following the intricate timeline and story for my SkyrimStuck fic, working on this was such a fun little break! This has been an idea of mine for well over 5 or so years, and I finally just sat down and started typing it out. It's crazy how that works!
> 
> This chapter brought to you by the song 'Everything Black' by Unlike Pluto. Usually when I find a song that strikes a chord with a story I'll hunker down and work on it wile listening to it on repeat. So go check it out cause it's a bop.
> 
> Anyways I hope you guys like it! I'd love to hear what you think of it so far, so please don't hesitate to let me know!!!
> 
> See yah next chapter!


	2. Lazy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zim has a dream about memory from years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally came back to this! Hope you guys enjoy!

Outside, the air was crisp and cold. The weather was overcast at best, and you knew it would rain soon. It was still early enough in the morning that you could watch the sun rise. But where pastel pinks and blues should be painting the sky, it was more muffled and muted.

Grey.

The insects were all now dormant, as the first frost was just last week. Things were a bit different for you than your human companions, as your studies have shown your genus alighted more with the insects of this planet rather than apes. 

This meaning, if you weren’t careful you could actually die fairly easy in cold weather. This is how you find yourself happily bundled in a heated blanket on your couch. Thick black sweatshirt two sizes too big with the sleeves cuffed at your wrists, and a cozy pair of black sweatpants kept you nice and warm. 

The TV was tuned to a news channel, which was currently between broadcasts, so reality TV shows were playing. 

You do enjoy these shows. These humans were so petty and dumb, you loved it. You would never admit this to Dib-stink. You do not enjoy these programs. It’s only research!!

For science!! 

_“In relationships, you know, it’s just SOOOOOOO important to keep things slow! You can't just rush into-“_

_“Didn’t you get married one month into both your relationships?”_

_“Got me there.”_

You held your left hand out to Gir, who was happily applying nail polish to your fingertips, as you actually lacked nails to begin with. This is an activity Gir saw on television once, and since it doesn’t interfere with work, you humor him. 

Today’s color was a hideous orange.

Your other hand was being used to shovel sugar coated corn flakes on your mouth. 

It was a nice, lazy morning for you, as the sugar cane stocks were just planted last night in the lab. With plants, you found it most effective letting them grow and mature on their own time. Rushing things only ever lead you to disaster. 

This of course meant that the sugar cane won’t be fully grown till 12 months from now. 12 loooooong months. 

12 months, what was that, like 2 years? A decade? Earth's time measurements still confused you. 

Things were so much easier to keep track of on Irk. Everything was electronically coded in our PAC. You automatically knew night from day, even time down to the exact millisecond.

But once you get cut off from the fleet, all connections to the hive mind got severed as well. You had trouble remembering how Irken time stamps worked now too. Especially with a newly designed PAC unit which was installed with the help of one Dib-Smelly. It was still a work in progress.

Time was just an undefinable thing for you now, but the Membrains kept you updated on important markers like holidays or weather patterns etc.

You don’t like to admit it, but the Membrain family have proven to be very helpful these past few years. Of course, as a proud Irken you could have survived and thrived on your own. That’s what you tell yourself anyways.

It was just nice to not have to.

Dib will never be told this. It would only inflate his big head more. 

Dib wouldn’t be coming back till much later tonight, having left for classes earlier this morning. Why anyone would voluntarily go to school after graduation was beyond you. But it was Dibs choice. 

Also Dr. Membrain’s choice. 

He was one human you didn’t want to get on the bad side of. He quite frankly frightened you. Not that you would outwardly confess this. But after watching a single being annihilate an entire robot army with only two hands in a matter of minutes.

A shiver went down your spine. 

You chose to focus on the television screen and burrow further in your toasty cocoon. It was so nice inside, so warm. The sound of the tv was more as background noise to you as you rested your eyes.

Sleeping was another entirely new sensation you’ve come to enjoy these past few years. It was nice to just shut your brain off and not worry about things for a little while.

~Zim: Dream~

As the teacher up front lectured on and on about math equations and formulas you already knew about, your eyes were focused on _him_.

You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but at some point in the day, Zim just _stopped_being Zim. That was the only way you could think to put it. No arrogant spiel, no indifferent and nonchalant posture. NOTHING! 

If he wasn’t your mortal enemy, you would have been concerned when he became all but despondent. You would have been worried when his eyes glazed over with no recollection of the things around him. Or when his body suddenly flopped over on the desk and stopped moving.

If you weren’t his enemy you would have been concerned.

You would have been.

And when the teacher’s response to this was to write him a detention slip for “sleeping” in class and carry on with the lecture, you would have been angry.

You wanted to chalk it up to being irritated on behalf of every student who’d ever been in crisis or serious trouble and went unnoticed by ignorant teachers.

But no, you found yourself genuinely concerned. Eyes now focused on the red slip of paper placed on the back of his head. And then to the small, barely visible blinking red flashing light coming from a point at the base of his neck, presumably were his PAC directly connected to his body.

When the bell sounded signaling the end of the school day and the rest of the class plus the teacher evacuated the room, you swung your bag over your shoulder walked over to the small Irken still seemingly unconscious on his desk.

“Hey Zim, what gives?” You nudged him with your foot, which seemed to do the trick. He sprung up on PAC legs and launched himself a good five feet away from you; landing ungracefully on his feet in a defensive stance.

“What is the meaning of this Dib-Stink?! Do not touch me with your grubby feet!!” He shouted, jabbing a gloved finger in your direction. He then swung his head around to take in his surroundings.

“Sorry for showing _some_concern,” You rolled your eyes and decided you’re really not in the mood for this today, “I thought you died.” You began to make your way around the defensive alien and leave the classroom. On your way out, you couldn’t help but notice how confused he looked.

Later that night you were woken up by a tap on your window. Just a small _-tic-_sound you almost wrote off as a branch knocking on it. You bundled yourself up further into the blankets and many pillows on your bed. Gaz tells you you’re a pillow princess and that one day they’ll all suffocate you.

First off, you are _not_a pillow princess. You just enjoy comfort, and if you die being smothered by the small mountain of pillows on your bed, let it be known you died with zero regrets-so HA!

_-TIC-TAK-TIC-_

You jolt up just in time to see a small rock bounce off your window. Last you checked; rocks didn’t just throw themselves-UNLESS-there was a race of sentient rock people!?

No, that just sounds silly. Like something you’d see in a cartoon. Rock people don’t exist. But maybe it’s Mothman, finally come to take you away on some spectacular journey.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

You climbed out of bed and made your way through a few piles of dirty clothes that hadn’t made it to the laundry basket yet, as clean cloths washed last week still sat inside it in need of folding. You almost stepped on a few DVD cases as well, but narrowly avoided it at the expense of almost falling over, but catching yourself on your desk edge and nocking a stack of books on it over. This caused a chain reaction that pushed over a cup of pencils, that knocked into a cool rock you found that looked suspiciously like a frog sanding up on two legs, which bumped the edge of your laptop just enough to slide it off your desk and clatter to the floor.

Whoever thought it was wise to wake you up in the middle of the night better have a damn good reason for doing so; because if your laptop just broke, you’ll be going to jail at the ripe young age of 15 for a murder.

_-TIC-TAC-TIC-_

You finally threw open the window and glared down at whoever it was, just in time to get hit in the forehead by a small rock. Soon thereafter you were pushed aside and into a pile of cloths by a hasty Irken who climbed through the window and slammed it shut. If dad didn’t sleep like it was an Olympic sport, he would have come over to see what was the matter.

As it were, him and Clembrain were nowhere to be heard.

And Gaz probably didn’t want to be bothered.

“Ok Dib-stink, I’m calling a truce. I don’t care about this _filthy_earth or conquest what-have-you,” He stood in the middle of the room, standing contrapposto and making wild, Zim like gestured with his hands as he began his rant, “You see, I have come into a bit of a dilemma.”

“This dilemma better be life or death, because it’s,” You looked to the clock on your wall, “2am Zim. On a school night.” You fixed him with a steady glare from your new found spot in a pile of dirty shirts and pants.

“Oh, I assure you, it is.” He clasped his hands together, and had you not known and observed him for years, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight edge of fear in his voice, “You see, as it would appear, the the Irken armada have cut me off completely. I’ve been running diagnostics all day and all communications have been severed.”

“Ok so they cut you off? Just do your own thing, I don’t see how this is life threatening Zim. I really don’t.” You stood up and brushed yourself off. Of what you really don’t know. You were tired. It’s 2am.

Zim began to pace, “Yes, after experiencing the seven stages of grief at lightning speed, this was the original plan. But the problem with this plan is that with signals now getting severed, my PAC unit is slowly shutting down.” He stopped his pacing at the center of your room, now taking a moment to actually look around, “Wow you really live like this?” he nudged at the pile of books on the floor with his foot.

“You really aren’t selling the idea of helping you here Zim.” You kneel down and start collecting the newly formed pile and stack them back on your desk where they were before, then picked up the laptop to inspect it. You flipped it open to find the screen shattered and glair over at Zim, “If you hadn’t woken me up,” You show him the laptop, “This screen wouldn’t be broken.”

You turn it over in your hands and inspect it further, a few keys fell loose and the corner was dented, but other than that it seemed ok, “You’re only lucky I’ve been wanting to replace this old laptop anyways. I can just take out the hard drive and transfer the data over.”

Zim jumped over to you on PAC legs and began shaking you by the shoulders, “You see Dib! This is the thing I was looking for a bit of assistance with! For Irkens, all of what makes us _us_is the data stored in our PAC units! Think of it like your human brain. If this stops working, I’ll be dead.” He stopped shaking you and lowered from his PAC legs as they retracted, “As much as it depresses me to be shirked by my Tallest, I still want to live.”

Without breaking eye contact, you put the laptop back on the desk, “So what you’re telling me,” You reach over and pick up your glasses to put them on, “That you’re whole personality is essentially artificial,” he nods, “All located in your PAC unit,” another nod, “and that If I help you out, I’ll get to mess around with alien tech-_all_while being insured that the world will be safe?”

Zim scoffs and lets your shoulders go to cross his arms, “Yes I suppose that is what I’m saying. You help me out here, I’ll give up on this whole conquer the Earth thing _and_you get to tinker with Irken technology.” He stuck out a hand, “Deal?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded and grabbed his hand, “Deal.”

~Zim: Dream~

The PAC design the two of you came up with was flawless in your own opinion. Not as bulky as the last, hooking in on the same spot, but went with the grove of your spine instead of creating a hunch on your back.

In the time frame you had to work with, between longer and longer spells of feinting, you and Dib had everything set up for the final transfer. Using some of his father’s tech, combined with yours, a new “hive” connection was made with a computer set up Dib built.

It was a risky procedure, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified. But you refused to let that show. It was now or never, the next time you get knocked out could be the final one.

No waking up.

So, either way you’d end up kicking the bucket.

This plan just had the chance of preventing that from happening.

You were laying face down on a dissecting table in your underground lab, hooked up to varying wires and monitors. Your original PAC was connected to you by a single wire now delicately attached to your spine and new one was hooked up to that.

The plan was simple. Dib would use the computer to start a data transfer from one to the other. Once that was successfully complete, he would then carefully swap the old unit with the new one.

You had faith in Dib, more for your own sanity in these remaining seconds before you went unconscious gain. Because that was all you had right now.

~Zim: Wake Up~

You were stirred awake by a hand gently shaking your shoulder, “Hey Zim, wake up.” You heard a voice say.

It was Dib.

You mumbled incoherent words and burrowed deeper in your blanket, only snapping too when your box of cereal was taken out of your hands, “Dib-stink, what is the meaning of this?” you grumble and rub your eyes, “Why are you home so..” You sit upright and look out the window, only to see nothing but the black of night, “Ahh, I must have slept longer than intended.” You take note of the fact one of your hands is now painted near completely cheese puff orange, with only small bits of green peering through here and there.

Ah, Gir and his antics.

“I brought home food.” He held up a paper takeout bag with the name ‘Filipes TM’ printed in red ink across the front. You immediately snatch it out of his hands and tear it open, “I walked past it on my way to the train and the line was short.” He plopped down next to you and slouched back on the couch, stretching his arms up till his shoulders popped, then folding them behind his head.

“I already ate my burrito on the ride home. Also don’t tell Gir. I forgot to get him something.” Mini Moose appeared seemingly out of nowhere, floating casually over Dibs head, “That goes for you too,” He pointed, “Keep your lips sealed got it?”

“Myehh!” It replied indifferently before meandering off.

You peel back the foil around your burrito and take a bite: chicken, rice, black beans, corn, lettuce and sour cream. The boy knows you well.

“So what did you dream about? You look really out of it.”

“Oh, just a memory from a while ago. Nothing special.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok holy shit, I was not expecting this to get as quick of an audience as it did! Thank you guys who are actually enjoying it so far! Please tell me what you think!
> 
> This is still a side project, especially since I started back on school etc. so updates will still be irregular; but I'm glad people are actually reading it.
> 
> This chapter war brought to you by the song 'Aliens' by Autumn Kings. I'm slowly creating a playlist. If I find a song that makes me think of this story lol
> 
> See yah next chapter!


	3. The storm approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zim sits atop the house watching as a thunderstorm approaches. Is it a metaphor for what's to come?

You were well into the night typing away at the essay on the relevance of cryptozoological representation in modern day media, emphasizing the Mothman craze that’s sweeping the nation, when the power goes out. Luckily you were working on your laptop, tucked away on your bed amongst the mess of pillows, most of them bought as a joke to your title of “Pillow Princess” Gaz and Zim have taken to calling you; or else you would have just lost at least 6 pages of writing. The essay is due by 8am tomorrow morning. Unlucky for you, the internet connection is effectively down, rendering your connection on Moogle Docs broken.

You can easily set up a hotspot through your cellphone, which you’ll probably get to in a second; but you feel like checking in on the lost power situation is probably more important. You’re partly aware of the wind whipping around outside your window, the unsteady tapping of tree branches to glass creating a white noise in your room. A storm was defiantly rolling in.

You place your laptop aside and weave your way through the mess of pillows and wires to make your way to the door. The hallway is surprisingly quiet, as is the rest of the house as you make your way down the stairs and to the living room, where the Irken would likely be sleeping on the couch if he wasn’t occupying his lab. Though his heated blanket was tossed aside and pillows were scattered on the floor, there was no sign that Zim was still here.

There’s a rumble of thunder overhead, and it would probably start raining soon, but you had an idea of where he might be. You walk your way across the living room, past the mess on the couch and floor, and made your way past the sliders and to the side porch. Though it was scarcely decorated, there were a few patio chairs scattered across the deck, with small solar powered lanterns attached to the tops of each column on the railing winding around the house. They faintly lit up the deck and partly past it, not as much as the porch light would have, but enough to navigate around.

Next to the door, a metal ladder was built into the side of the house leading up to the roof. You had a sneaking suspicion Zim was up there. And another one telling you he either didn’t know about the storm approaching or didn’t care. You climb up the latter and peak your head over the gutter to see the small Irken sitting at the top point of the roof with his back towards you.

It faintly reminds you of a younger version of yourself, looking up at the sky searching for life beyond Earth. It’s kind of Ironic, in a way, that the life from beyond it is now the one looking up at the sky. One of his antenna twitch in your direction to indicate he knows you’re there. The wind is whipping around stronger up here, but you climb onto the roof to join your alien friend.

You take a seat next to him and look up as well. The sky right now is almost surreal. Despite it being well past midnight, the full moon still illuminates the dark and fast approaching storm clouds. It’s going to rain soon, you can smell it in the air as thunder rumbles overhead. Almost like sitting directly in the eye of the storm.

“It’s gonna start raining soon.” You say.

“I know.” Zim responds, his voice uncharacteristically somber and quiet.

Silence fallows that for a few moments before you continue, “So you should probably head inside.”

His antenna twitches and taps you on the side of your head, and despite not having pupils or anything that would indicate were his eyes were looking, you could just tell he was staring at you, “What, are you worried about Zim? Hmm?”

“Well for one the power is out, and it’s really cold out here, and you’re not wearing socks or a sweatshirt, aaaand you’re cold blooded.” You punctuate each note by counting it on your fingers and wiggling them in front of his face for him to see, “So yeah I guess you could say I’m a little bit concerned.”

Zim scoffs before stretching out his legs and flexing his clawed, little Irken toes, “Zim is perfectly fine,” He wiggles them as if to prove his point, “See my feet are clearly working perfectly. The cold will not hinder the perfection that is the Irken genome.” He cocks his head to the side and gives you a smug look, “And plus, Zim does not see what the power being out has to do with his temperature. Is it that you want the great and almighty Zim to check the power connection?” He raises an eyebrow.

“It has everything to do with your temperature you obtuse fuck, no power means the heat is off.” You deadpan.

He pursed his lips in a flat line and levels you with a look of _‘You have offended me greatly and I am now contemplating retaliations’_

The thunder rolls in much closer, and the wind is whipping your hair in your face and behind your glasses, poking you in the eyes in the process. All in all, not a fun time. You both take one more moment to overlook the property from up here; how the wind is sending ripples across the cornfield that spans far across their back yard, how fallen leaves are swept up into the air, almost comically back at the trees they fell from.

With one more boom of thunder sounding as a final warning, Zim finally stands up and stretches his arms above his head, waiting to hear a satisfying pop from his shoulder blades before extending a hand down to help you up on your feet, “Let us get inside then.”

You climb down the latter, as Zim scales down the side of the house quickly and effortlessly with the aid of his pack legs. As soon as your feet touch the wood of the deck, Zim’s already booked it past the slider doors, slammed them shut, and effectively locked you out to the house.

The heavens opened up, and retaliations have been taken.

~Somewhere Deep in Space~

_The tallest have been monitoring the planet Earth for some time now. Though they know for sure that Zim has been severed from the Hive mind, that his pac has been completely terminated and compromised, that he is no doubt finally dead; they can’t help the sneaking suspicion that Zim has managed to survive through some hellishly divine intervention. _

_The Resisty is getting larger by the day, and if he’s survived, he knows too much._

_“Send invaders Skoodge and Tenn to earth and recover the body.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM-BAM-BAAAAM
> 
> Hello everyone, and I'm sorry it always takes me so long to get working on this story, I promise it's not abandon and I love it dearly! I honestly enjoy writing it so much, but every time I finish a chapter it feels like something else always pops up and I get derailed. Also sorry this ended up being so short, I'll try and make the next chapter much longer I swear it!
> 
> Anyways, I'd love to hear feedback!  
And if you guys want, you can find me on Tumblr by searching CoolBeesBro (I've been trying to insert a link here but for the life of me it will not work T.T)


	4. Smeets of the Corn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super Smash Bro's Announcer Voice: New players have joined the battle!!

Zim was NOT crazy.

Zim was NOT losing it.

He could clearly hear it! This incessant, high pitched beeping coming from somewhere in the house. Was it in the lab? Was it the kitchen? Was it Gir?

It had him crawling up the walls by the entry way of the home and over the railing outside Dib’s room, looking up at the air vents, down the hall towards the humans bedroom door, down the other way towards the staircase, behind framed posters of shitty earth sci-fi films and under a potted spider plant sitting atop a small corner ledge were the staircase turns at a 90 degree angle.

The door at the and of the hallway opens, and with all the intensity of a predator locking eyes with its prey, Zim quickly puts the plant back and pops his head over the top step of the stairs and gives Dib a thousand yard stare, “Hey Stinky! Do you hear that?!”

Dib fixes you with a look of confusion, clearly having just woken up, no doubt from the racket caused by the mighty Zim’s antics. He’s in his mothman pajamas and pink bunny slippers, one of which has lost an ear, most likely due to Gir on a rampage, “Hear what?”

“Hear what?!” Zim launches back up the steps, almost tripping at the top, “That—That BEEPING!” You tug at your antenna with clawed hands, as if that alone would muffle the high-pitched wailing resounding through the house, “THE BEEPING DIB SMELLY,” bordering on hysterics, “THE BEEPING!”

Dib looks equal parts bewildered and concerned, “I don’t hear anything Zim.”

“What do YOU MEAN YOU HEAR NOTHING?!” Pac legs spring out and launch yourself at his confused roommate, grabbing him by the collar of the shirt and shaking him back and forth, “The beeping Dib—THE BEEPING!” You let go and catapult yourself over the other side of the railing, landing in the kitchen, and begin rifling through the cabinets, like a mad man, throwing boxes of cereal and cans behind you in search of whatever the source of that noise was.

“Hey wait a minute!” Dib comes running down the stairs and into the kitchen, “What are you doing! Stop that!” He catches your hand by the wrist mid throw of a small can of baked beans, “I don’t hear a beeping, what are you talking about?” you drop the can, he looks at the floor and takes in the mess of spilled cereal boxes in dismay, more importantly, the now emptied box of precious Mighty Mellow Charms, “I wanted those dude.”

“What do you mean you do not HEAR the beeping?” Your antennas are going haywire twitching back and fourth trying to locate the source.

Dibs brow furrows, “I don’t,” he’s thinking, “Maybe it’s at a frequency humans can’t pick up?”

You dramatically wilt, hanging onto Dib by his shoulders and let out an obnoxious wine, “Of course you humans and your inferior bodies cannot pick up on noises such as these the clearly SUPERIOR irken race, can hear.”

“It sounds to me like humans are the victor in this scenario,” he pushes your hands off and you slump to the ground like a dead weight, “You’re the one sniveling like a child, and I’m perfectly fine.” He shrugs and moves to look in the fridge.

You’re sulking on the ground while the Dib smelly rummages through the contents, “It looks like we’ll need to do a shopping later today.” He steps aside for you to see a clearly near empty fridge, one of which you could not give two shits about while your only focus is on the beeping.

He rolls his eyes and pulls out a half empty carton of milk, takes the cap off, smells and winces, “Yeah that’s gone bad,” He turns it over in his hands to look for an expiration date and signs, “A week ago.” He deadpans.

You’ve begin your search again, sifting through detergents, bleach and other cleaning chemicals in the cabinet underneath the sink, “Dude what do you think is under there that could be making a beeping noise? You think the sponges are out to get you? Maybe the tide pods are ready to self destruct?” Your head swivels in a way that’s not humanly possible and lock eyes with Dib, of which is looking at you like you’re some feral animal and is almost amused.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Oh? You’re saying the ALLMIGHTY ZIM? INVADER AND FUTURE OVERLORD OF THE IRKEN ARMADA? LOOKS REDICOULUS?” You lunge up, scattering sos pads across the kitchen floor and crushing an unfortunate bottle of dish soap in the process, the blue syrupy soap now leaking into the floor from the cabinet, “YOU’RE WEARING PINK EARTH BUNNY SLIPPERS!” you extend your arms out at them to emphasize the ridiculousness that is the slippers gifted to him as a joke.

“These slippers happen to be very comfortable, thank you very much. And at least I don’t have powdered carpet cleaner on my face.”

A pac leg with a mirror extends to take a look at your face, and low and behold, you do indeed look ridiculous, and do indeed have lavender scented carpet cleaner on your face.

It would be comical to a future Zim.

A future Zim that has located to source of that incessant beeping and destroyed it in a glorious and fiery explotion!!!

Glorious it will be indeed.

Dib is shuffling back up the stairs when you look back, “Where are you going?!”

“I’m getting dressed and going to get something to eat, preferably away from here while you deal with,” He pauses and gestures to the mess in the kitchen, “All this.”

With the sound of the Dib human’s bedroom door closing, you move on to the next few cabinets, all of which come up negative for infuriating beeping devices. Somewhere between your escapade in the kitchen and moving over to the living room to investigate once more, Dib left the house and you hear the tell tail sound of his car’s engine starting up in the driveway.

You double check underneath every pillow, tear the couch cushions off the couch and throw them somewhere behind you, flip the couch over to inspect underneath it. Your pac legs make quick work of clearing off the coffee table and taking all the drawers out, scattering all the remotes and a few notebooks across the floor. You intricately take apart every remote and leave the remains in a semi organized pile in the corner; you’ll have to put them back together later or Dib will be very displeased with you.

You’re antenna pick up on focal point in the direction of the laboratory and nearly launch yourself across the space and stumble through the lab door, impatiently waiting for the door to open.

Everything looks normal in here. Lab tables 1-3 exactly as you left them. A newer, more impressive terrarium with a colony of sugar ants took up most of the surface of lab table 3 with the screen above it actively taking notes on their progress and behaviors. Dissected remnants of the latest failed sugar beets attempt were still set in a series of petri dishes for closer examination took up the majority of lab table 2. And lab table 3 had what was left of the corn harvested, which in retrospect was still a considerably copious amount of corn.

The desk to the right of the lab entrance was cluttered with tiny clay pots containing varying soil samples with the same sample of corn growing in them to see what type was optimal for plants. All samples at varying stages of growth despite being planted at the same time.

The large bisected circular planter in the middle of the room had sugar cane sprouts growing on one side, and yet another failed sugar beet sample shriveled up on the other.

_\--beep beep beep beep beep beep beep—_

“WHERE IN THE NAME OF IRK IS THAT NOISE COMING FROM?!” you launch yourself up the railing to the upper level of the lab, clearing off book shelfs lifting up and searching behind screens and making the place entirely too messy.

A future Zim would be very displeased.

But this was no future Zim, this Zim was a present Zim, a madman on a mission.

With no luck there you bounded over the railing, landing directly between the circle planter and whipping your head around trying to locate the sound; scattered papers falling from above as neatly organized research notes spill from previously organized folders thrown about above.

A problem for future Zim.

THE CORN! You dive to the cluttered table and stash of corn overflowing on the counter and start throwing them every which way.

Then a sudden realization hit you. Both literally and figuratively when a stack of upturned books from the level above tipped over and clocks you in the head, sending you stumbling down the steps to the lower level of the lab. Only then did you come face to face with the culprit.

It was your old pac.

Once deactivated and powerless, now had the smallest little red light flashing around the area where it connected to the back of your neck.

Peculiar.

You promptly smash it off the ground like a football. You kept it for sentimental reasons, but if it was going to torment him like this then he wanted nothing more to do with it.

Right as the beeping came to an end, a new sound catches your attention. Unfamiliar hushed voices talked outside your lab. The sound of small feet tiptoeing around the kitchen. Lacking the small metallic _tink tink tink _your Sir unit made, and too light to be the Dib stink returning home from getting breakfast. And distinctly two sets of feet.

You crept closer to the stairway, one antenna raised to try and get a better angle to hear them.

“…the signal stopped….we’re close we have to be…looks like a…trashed…” With all the stealth of an earth ninja, your pac legs come out and you creep up the steps and peek around the doorway and spot something peculiar.

Two small Irkens, both of which are familiar but you can’t quite remember their names, and are currently sifting through the trashed remains of both living room and kitchen.

“Go to earth they said, it’ll be easy they said.” Mumbles the small female Irken as she searches through the mess of pillows, couch cushions and blankets, getting tangled up in the wire to the heated one, “His signal came from here, and just stopped. The stupid smeet probably exploded himself.” She gestured to the disaster Zim left the house in.

The shorter, stout male Irken hopped out of the cabinet under the sink, just tall enough that the small invader could walk through without ducking his head, “If he exploded himself, wouldn’t there be more of a, umm, more of a fshhhPOW!” He made a gesture of an explosion.

“Hmmm, Skoodge you’re right. There’s something weird going on here.” She puts a clawed finger to her chin and taps a small foot in contemplation, “Maybe his body was found, and someone has been messing with Irken Tech?” she kicks a can of beans and is rolls towards the lab entrance.

They both look over just in time to see you duck back behind the doorway and shut and lock the metal doors with a yelp.

“ZIM!” the female Irken’s pac legs tear open the door and send it clattering to the ground, almost careening into the sugar cane stocks, “The Tallest were correct, how are you alive?!” She chases you around the round center planter, Skoodge darts around the other way. You go to dart through the pathway bisecting the planter only to have them block you in at both ends.

The almighty Zim will not be bested by these tiny little _smeet_.

You stand a good 3 feet over each of them, clawed hands bared for an attack, eyes darting back and forth between the other Irkens.

Skoodge freezes when he actually takes a good look at you, “Tenn, he looks kinda…off?”

She takes a moment to look you over as well, “Have you gained weight? You look fatter than I remember.”

“THE ALLMIGHTY ZIM HAS GOTTEN TALLER YOU INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE SMEETS!!!” Your pac legs dart out at her. When Tenn dodges out of the way, you bolt towards the back of the room by the three lab tables. They chase after you, and in self defense, you scoop up as many ears of corn as you can and start pelting the tiny invaders with them, “You want a piece of the almighty ZIM?! EAT CORN YOU HUMAN EARTH TODDLERS!!!” You shout as one runs from the lab while you’re still pelting them with corn.

You accidentally pelt the soil samples with an ear of corn sending the tiny clay pots soaring.

A problem for future Zim.

As she dodges them Tenn collects discarded corn and throws them back before darting around the circular planter and using her pac legs to launch herself to the upper level of the lab.

“YOU TRATER TO THE EMPIRE!” She shouts at you as she sends a cob flying at your head. You duck out of the way and hear a large smash behind you, and quickly looking over your shoulder and you can see the lovely colony of sugar ants was now roaming free as the terrarium walls broke on impact.

“YOU INSIGNIFICANT, SNIVILING LITTLE SMEET!” you whip a cob back at her, thwapping her in the face sending her backwards. You jump up in small moment of victory, “YOUR MOTHER IS A WORM AND FATHER IS A BLOWDRIER! YOU HAVE FAILED THE FALSE EMPIRE!”

From the doorway of the lab stands a very confused Skoodge apprehensively holding an ear of corn, watching the corn carnage ensue in pure confusion.

Tenn looks at him, “SKOODGE HELP!” she gestures to a victorious Zim posing dramatically with one clawed fist in the air, one foot propped up on the rim of the center planter.

His brows furrow and he throws the cob, hitting you in the back of the head. In your distraction Tenn takes advantage of her new found height and leaps over the railing and clings to your head and tugs at your antenna, “HOW DARE YOU HIT THE PRECIOUSE TENN WITH THIS EARTH VEGETABLE?!”

You’re trying to tear her off your head, and in the process trip over Skoodge and come tumbling down in the kitchen with Ten now standing on the back of your neck with a death grip on your antenna, “YOU WILL UNHAND ZIM AT ONCE!” Your pac legs lift you up off the ground as you work to tear the tiny invader off your back, “HOW DARE YOU ASSAULT A TALLEST! I AM SUPERIOR, IT IS ME, THE ALL MIGHTY TALLEST ZIIIIIIM!” you tear her off your back and throw her across the kitchen and into the upturned couch, the momentum in the throw actually knocking it back to an upright position.

“HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF A TALLEST!” Skoodge starts to run towards you and freezes in his tracks at the glare you send him, made more intimidating by the three foot height advantage.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR PAC YOU FREEK?!” Tenn shouts as she comes careening towards you. You dodge and duck around her and run for the coffee table, using it as a barrier between you and the other two, who quickly catch up with you.

“WHAT IS IT YOU WANT WITH ZIM?!” You demand as the three of you are running circles around the table.

“WE’RE SENT BY THE REAL TALLESTS TO TRACK DOWN AND CONFIRM A DEAD ZIM!” Tenn shouts you all come to a standstill glaring at each other across the table still in defensive positions, “WHY ARENT YOU DEAD?!!”

“WELL YOU FAILED, BECAUSE ZIM IS VERY MUCH ALIVE AND WON’T BE KILLED ANY TIME SOON!!!” you shout in response.

Somewhere behind you, you hear the front door open and close, “Jesus Christ Zim the house is trashed.” You hear the familiar voice of the Dib human, you look over your shoulder right as he walks into the kitchen, “You’re picking this up—” He looks at the two tiny invaders, to you, to the cobs of corn, back at you, then the to furniture flipped all over the place, “Ummmm,” he takes a sip of what looks like a smoothie, “Am I interrupting something?”

Your head snaps at what should be an unnatural angle and you fix Dib with the most sickly-sweet expression of innocents, “No Dib not at all!"

Across the table, Tenn whips an ear of corn smacking you in the head, “On an unrelated note PLEASE HELP ZIM SECURE THE IRKEN SPIES PLEASE AND THANK YOU?!!” You gesture angrily at the other two.

He hastily puts down the drink and quickly grabs the two little Irkens by the back of their shirts and lifting them off the ground, Tenn putting up more of a fight than Skoodge who just accepted his fate. Dib looks at you and smiles like you’re the biggest idiot on earth, “See now wasn’t that easy?”

Tann kicks out and hits his gut and he almost drops her and you mirror his look right back at him, “Ok,” Dib glairs down at Tenn, “That the hell is going on here?”

“The beeping noise I was hearing was a tracking signal emitting from my old pac, which is now—ehh--dead. They tracked me to this location, and from what I’ve been told, they’re on a recovery mission in search of my corps.” You relay the information like you would classified information to another soldier during war, “That plan is incredibly flawed, considering the time frame of their recovery mission and how long Zims pac has been out of commission. Surly if Zimm was dead—WHICH HE ISN’T—” you fix a death glair at Tenn before continuing, “then his body would have been decomposed and long gone.” You look back and forth between the two tiny invaders, “That is just stupid.”

“Don’t you dare call our Tallest stupid!” Tenn shouts, trying to wriggle out of Dib’s hold on her, “They are the most intelligent beings in all the universe!” Her shouts come across alike a childlike tantrum.

“Can we all just sit and talk like adults—ZIM!” Dib glares at you as you reach for an ear of corn. You retract your hand and grumble.

“Can I trust you two to not try and kill Zim if I put you down?”

The two look at each other, having a silent conversation, one were Skoodge looks more apprehensive and Tenn just striate up irritated, before Tenn nods, “We will have this _adult conversation_. Then we will kill the Zim.”

“No—” Dib starts as Mini Moose floats in from Gir’s part of the house like an omnipresent specter overlooking its kingdom and the two little Irkens flinch, “You will not Kill Zim.”

“You have a moose.”

“They have a moose.”

“A mini Moose.”

“The moose is loose, how did it get freed from its room?”

The two are terrified as they go back and forth about the tiny floating moose now levitating over your head, looking as terrifying as a mini moose could look.

“Ok we will talk. And will _probably_not try and kill Zim.” Dib sighed and took that as an ok to let them go; and true to their word, they just stood there and waited.

You stand up, brushing off dirt and corn bits from your black sweatshirt and tutting, “Zim’s new shirt is filthy now..” You pout.

Dib levels you with an unimpressed _‘Are you kidding me?’_look, and you gesture to the stained article of clothing.

“Why are you tall?” Tenn interrupts your mini silent argument, still displeased, but curious none the less.

Your antenna perk up, “The Tallest are frauds.” Both Tenn and Skoodge look outraged, but before they can get a work in edgewise you raise a finger up to shush them. You clear your throat, a few buttons are pressed on the moose and it opens up into what looks like a middle school power point presentation, with over compressed gifs of dancing skeletons titled _‘Why The Tallests are Frauds’._

“Now be prepared, for what Zim is about to disclose may very well implode your tiny noodle brains.” You stand before them, back straight and head held high and pull a clicker out of nowhere and begin the presentation.

_Click_

“As you can see in this diagram here—” you dramatically point to the graph line with a pac leg, “—my height stopped increasing after, what we on earth call one year.”

They both nod to show that they’re following, “And after many decades later, THE ALL MIGHTY ZIM—” dramatic pose, “—Has suddenly acquired a large growth spurt!!!”

They nod.

_Click_

“You see, after Zim was completely cut off from the armada, he was able to survive the pac’s doomsday shutdown with the help of the smelly, big headed Dib—” You point to your human companion who smiles and meekly waves, “—Together we created a new, independent space for Zim all tucked inside a newly designed pac—” you point to the slide depicting a 3d model of your pac created with blueprints, “—I am completely independent from the armada, and THE ALL MIGHTY ZIM has discovered the key to irken growth! What the tallest don’t want us to know, is that a substance called sugar is been taken from our diets once we’re just old enough to follow orders and serve the armada!”

They look at the slides in bewilderment, then to you, then back at the slides, then back to you.

“So..” Skoodge starts off, “the whole time..”

“It’s all been an elaborate lie?!” Tenn looked completely taken aback, both disbelieving and furious, “How could they do this to us? This can’t be real? You’re lying and a freak and—and—and just wrong!” Tenn steps backwards, “The Tallest would never—” she stumbles back and lands on the mess of blankets and pillows in disbelief, “—they… they… how could they do this?”

You remember this feeling.

Yes you remember it well.

Not being able to tell what the truth is and were the disseat ends.

What is your purpose in life, if not as an invader then what?

If not to serve the armada, then who?

If your own race didn’t want you, then who did—_nobody needs zim—_how do you move forward when it feels like there’s no direction to go—_you sink—_every day the beeping gets louder and louder, the signal gets weaker and weaker—_pulse gets slower and slower—_you’re all alone—_all alone—_sinking—_sinking further and further hands reaching out for a lifeline ANYTHING—_

You feel Dib’s hand on you’re shoulder, and it grounds you. He’s fixing you with a look you know all too well, a silent _‘are you going to be ok?’_. You raise a hand and rest it over his and give it a pat before moving forward.

“ALLRIGHT!” you collect yourself and shout, getting the attention of the two, smaller disassociating Irkens, “You guy’s ready to clean up this mess? HMMMMM?” Tenn groans and slumps backwards in the pile, and Skoodge, after a dazed moment, begins collecting bits of corn kernels blasted off the cob during combat. Mini Moose, after decompressing, effectively nopes out of there.

Dib clears his throat from behind you, “I believe you had part in this as well?” your head swivels and you lock eyes with the human, “Or do you forget how you trashed the kitchen this morning?”

You let out, what is perhaps, the most exaggerated sigh humanly—AND irkenly possible before going to grab a broom.

* * *

Hey guys!

Find me on Tumblr here: [CoolBeesBro](https://coolbeesbro.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a little bit depressing towards the end didn't it? Sorry bout that! 
> 
> But the idea that Irkens (in this au at least) are allowed to mature, but only to a certain point, because children are easier to manipulate than adults. And being a child that's abandoned and left to die by their parents, wondering what they did wrong, how they could have been better is super traumatizing; and that's exactly what Zim went through.
> 
> With the introduction of Tenn and Skoodge, I'm excited to write the great shenanigans that ensue! Tenn's a handful, and Skoodge is a gentle soul.
> 
> Anywhoo! I had a lot of fun with this chapter, and am already laying out stuff for the next one! Hopefully it'll be published in a timely manner, but it seems like every time I say that, I end up going on hiatus so whoops!
> 
> See yah guys next chapter!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic is a shitpost lol


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